


i'm not your hero (but that doesn't mean that i wasn't brave)

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Families of Choice, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Pre-Slash, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Derek, Trans Female Character, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Derek Hale hated himself long before the fire.





	1. i am now lighting up the hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story I have wanted to write for a long time. Thanks for checking it out and I appreciate any thoughts.

**PART ONE: i am now lighting up the hall**

Stiles Stilinski has finally appeared, all grown up. For the past few months they've been in contact - email, texts - but many years have passed until they managed to arrange a meet up. Derek can see their evidence impressed on Stiles' skin in places - bags under his eyes, laughter lines cradle his mouth, worry indents on his brow, a faint scar pale around his left eye. The taxes of time. His suit fits nicely, shoes gleaming enough to suggest expense but not pretension. His shiny ID badge declares him a proper adult member of the government work force. He is all grown up, all grown into. Confidence and capability draped over him like hard earned honors. The Washington DC sunlight complements him and he seems at ease against a backdrop of columned buildings that practically radiate prestige and history.

Yet, the emotions contorting Stiles’ face and flashing in his eyes - shock and confusion a sharp mixture that Derek struggles to match to scent and heartbeat - reels the two of them back to the Beacon Hills Preserve all those years ago.

A first meeting, a gawking teenager, a confrontation with the unknown and the unfamiliar.

Derek watches the hand gripping Stiles’ coffee cup tighten. Those amber eyes trace Derek’s face, the lines and curves of Derek’s body.

Derek refuses to flinch, expression schooled into a dazzling smile, icy with teeth, that belies a slightly accelerated heartbeat. There have been too many battles, internal and external, for this - _this_ \- to topple Derek’s confidence and nerve. “Stiles.”

“Uh, Derek,” Stiles chokes out. So. Even a career in the federal bureau of investigations, supernatural division, has yet to render Agent Stilinski completely unflappable. “You. You’ve - changed.”

“I know,” Derek says, stance adjusting slightly, meeting Stiles’ gaze head on with arms extended as if to say ‘ta-dah!’

“Huh.” Stiles swallows, continuing his survey of Derek’s form with an expression that is assessing but not necessarily judgmental. A few seconds and then Derek can see when something clicks inside Stiles, remembers from those times observing the man reach a satisfying conclusion to a puzzle or mystery. Understanding. Acceptance. A bit smug. “So,” Stiles says. And he’s smiling now, bright and with a hint of mischief. “I see you finally managed the full shift after all!”

Still _such an asshole_. “Fuck you,” Derek counters with an eye roll, feeling a swell of relief and happiness from the assurance that - while some things really _do_ fucking change, others remain a comforting constant. Stiles Stilinski is an annoying and unpredictably loyal piece of shit who continually manages to say the most awkward things ...to Derek’s chagrin and reluctant delight. “I was able to fully shift into a wolf when you were in high school.”

Stiles laughs softly, steps forward, and Derek can hear Stiles' heart beat quicken, but his shoulders are relaxed, his smile and scent now positively radiant. Like lemon cream. Nervous but sweet. “I know. That's not what I meant.”

Derek meets him halfway, melts into the hug that Stiles enthusiastically delivers and feels something melt in her chest when Stiles tightens his arms around her and mutters into her hair, “You’re beautiful.”

“I know,” Derek says, closing her eyes, and believes it.

***

 

Thoughts? This series will chronicle what brought Stiles and Derek to this moment, as well as where they go from here. Title adapated from Tegan and Sara's "I'm Not Your Hero". https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dSGbOmW4AjI


	2. no future in my sight line

**PART TWO** : past

Derek could never be sure who knew and who suspected and who didn't and who just didn't care.

Thinking back, trying to trace the jagged lines that led him to _here_ \- memories flash in his mind like scenes from a shitty movie called the sexually confused werewolf boy who wishes he was a she. Out of order in time and in importance.

Behind Beacon Hills High gym after practice, Kate Argent shoving a hand down his pants and gripping his dick rough, quick, dry. Shutting his eyes as she whispered against his ear "You like it, you like it," as Derek tipped his head back as if in prayer, as his stomach churned and his nails itched and his dick swelled. His thoughts echoed Kate's lewd chant, because maybe if he grit his teeth and _tried_ , over time, the words would be a prophecy, become a reality. "I like it, I like it," he groaned. The words tasted sour.

 

Talia coming home from work early, pausing in the doorway of the toy room and watching her children with a fond smile. "Having fun?"

Cora squealed, banging some blocks together as answer. Laura paused only momentarily in her careful ministrations over Derek's face, smearing it with waxy blush and lipstick as only a nine year old could. They both wore old fringed beaded dresses that belonged to Grandma Hale in the flapper era that had seen better days. They felt silky and cold against their skin, and they couldn't imagine feeling more glamorous or grown up. "I'm playing Laura!" Derek announced triumphantly. "We're LADIES."

It wasn't a crazy charade. They were close enough in height and age that they had been mistakenly called 'the Hale twins' last summer, when Derek was allowed to grow his hair to his shoulders. They were hairless, flat chested children, happily oblivious to any real difference between them besides those silly little things beneath their pants. And who cared about that anyway, when there were parts of the woods to discover and lakes to swim in and cookies to eat? 

"Stop moving, Derek!" Laura scolded. "You're gonna ruin it."

Talia laughed and turned away. "Sounds lovely. Dinner will be ready soon, ladies."

"OKAY," came the careless chorus.

 

Four hours later, Derek sobbing and clawing at Laura's shins after she confiscated a shirt and some toys she found in his room.

"They're _mine,_ " Laura insisted, tugging them out of reach and retreating to her own room. Derek collapsed to the ground and cried louder, kicking at the air. "But you _said_ \- you _said-_ "

"It was just play," Laura said, sounding world weary and frustrated. Her eyes flashed angrily when one of Derek's nails slashed at her wrist. "MOM! DAD!"

"Children," their dad growled. He was toweling dry Cora's hair. "Bed."

Talia appeared at his shoulder, eyes glowing red with Alpha intent. " _Now._ "

Derek continued to cry but his mom's words compelled him to bed, whimpering and hiccuping wetly into his Land Before Time pillowcase. Play like that stopped not too long after. 

 

New York City, a few months after the fire. Living there with werewolf senses was hell. The bar he was in reeked of spilled stale beer and sweat. Greasy fingers prodded his side, "You want to get out of here?" delivered wetly against his neck.

Some times: Derek recoiled. "Not tonight," he would say shortly and more than a little rude. Quick escape.

Most times: fucking so hard it hurt, faceless men, relishing the burn of sensation other than anxiety and pain and hatred.  
  
After: Derek would watch the bruises and cuts fade sadly.

 

Alone in the apartment he and Laura shared. She was hardly ever around and when she was - Derek didn't know who avoided who, but it was a tense and fraught situation whenever they spent more than twenty minutes together. But they were all each other had and the scent of _pack_ that permeated the place was a necessary balm against the dreary loneliness of their world.

It was also nice that Derek had access to Laura's closet. He'd only had the courage to swipe a few things that wouldn't be missed - a cheap slip night dress from Target, a tube of L'Oreal lipstick that was mostly melted and almost gone, a costume necklace with aquamarine colored stones. It soothed something in him during those long hours alone, staring at himself in the closet mirror.

For some reason, buying his own stuff wasn't an option he entertained. His wardrobe already only consisted of just a handful of t shirts and jeans.

On the really bad days, full moons especially, Derek would cuddle up to the mirror and stare at himself in the slip with his wolf-shifted face, the sprouted hair, the bulging teeth. Hypnotically gouge cuts into his thighs with his claws. A joint of wolfsbane laced marijuana that he scored off some guy in the Village in a dirty plate by his knee.

"You're a monster," he'd tell his reflection earnestly. "You're disgusting."

 

Act like people should be afraid of you, and they will be. At least, that's what Derek tried to convince himself.

Long punishing hours pushing his body, chin lifts and sit ups and sprints, watching his muscles grow with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity and disappointment. Werewolf masculine biology - his body understood things his brain couldn't accept.

He pushed himself harder. Gave up the war with his five o'clock shadow that, ever since he turned sixteen, seemed to be drifting more towards a three o'clock shadow.

Swallowed down the revulsion when people gazed at his physique appreciatively. Scowled and pushed himself harder, further away.

"Now that's what a man should look like," he overheard a woman titter to her friend as he was out buying groceries. A glare in their direction made them giggle nervously.

 

A large shard of glass in his loft on Elmhurst in Beacon Hills served as a make shift mirror. The moon shone through the large windows, allowing him to gaze at his naked form clearly.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Large hands. Dark wiry hair. Muscle definition and scarcely an ounce of soft fat to be found.

"You're hideous," he hissed to himself, then allowed himself to collapse into his full wolf shift to sprint out into the dark night.

***


	3. Chapter 3

****

**PART THREE**

“Are you weirded out?”

They’re eating frozen yogurt on a bench off the national mall. Stiles has swapped out his thick frames for sunglasses, and Derek gets some joy out of giving him shit for being a Man In Black impersonator.

Stiles frowns down at his yogurt as he considers the question. He seems to be trying in vain to slice a gummy worm in half with the blunt spoon. “Honestly,” he begins. He gives up on the gummy worm and just shoves a peanut butter cup and some vanilla into his mouth. He still has the nasty habit of speaking with a full mouth, Derek can see. “Honestly, I can’t say I’m not taken aback but - weirded out?” He shakes his head. “Derek, in my thirty five years I’ve dated a were coyote, a banshee, and almost ended up married to a half alien senator who is now being investigated for tax fraud - _don’t_ ask,” he adds severely at Derek’s baffled expression. “ _Seriously_ , don’t ask. State secrets and all that.” Stiles puts down his spoon and glances around them quickly before saying, under his breath, “Seriously, dude, the type of freaks in this town - You have no idea.”

Derek watches the news. She’s shocked and yet… not.

“I can accept it,” she says easily. Stiles runs a hand through his hair and gives her a grateful look.

“It’s amazing I haven’t gone completely gray yet,” he mutters. “Or completely insane. We thought Beacon Hills was bad - shit, dude.”

Derek nods. “Have you ever considered doing something… else?”

Stiles waves a hand in dismissal. “Oh, are you kidding? I’m still having a blast. But yeah,” Stiles jabs his spoon with emphasis and some Nerd candy flicks off onto Derek. “Shit’s crazy. InterGALACTIC crazy.”

“Hmm. Suddenly my own life doesn’t seem so exciting,” Derek says dryly.

“Yeah, so,” Stiles continues, gesticulating broadly. “My werewolf friend showing up in a dress hardly breaks my top 5 list most shocking moments of _this week_. Sorry.”

“Glad to hear it, I guess.”

“But don’t worry, buddy,” Stiles adds, throwing a comforting arm over her shoulder. A sly grin on his face. “Your ass is still out of this world.”

“Stay in your lane, Stilinski,” Derek says airily. She tries to smother her own grin with an extra big spoonful of her own yogurt. Stiles just smirks.

Derek doesn't dislodge his arm.  
  
  
***


End file.
